


All you need to hear

by caseofundertow



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Anxiety Attacks, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everybody Lives, Getting Together, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-08 18:33:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16434629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caseofundertow/pseuds/caseofundertow
Summary: It didn’t happen every night, but when it did it followed the same pattern he failed to escape over and over.Until today.a.k.a.Stiles is struggling after his possession, and someone's had enough.





	All you need to hear

**Author's Note:**

> This might be a bit rushed. I don't do this often, or practically at all, but I just really needed to get something out and finish it.  
> Unbeta-ed. See the end notes regarding typos.

It didn't happen every night. Maybe two-three times a week. Sometimes more, sometimes less. It didn't take a genius to figure out that when it did, it usually happened on the nights his father had to spend at work. He would startle awake at 3am, like on a clock, echoes of screams and voices repeating the same thing over and over still ringing in his ears. They weren't even the same words—just something he heard people say in the last few days: a small argument, a reprimand from a teacher that touched his nerve, some annoying remark from a guy he wouldn't even care to remember the name of caught by a chance in a hallway... A random mash of all the voices and words that might have had triggered a negative reaction for a during the day, things he didn't even remember until they came back to assault him in the night. Like a hive of bees suddenly exploding inside his head. Once he was awake, he lay there, struggling to breathe, to clear his head, his neck and head aching from the tension that had been clutching him unaware in his dream.  
Although, waking up—while it did fill him with anger and frustration for being robbed of any chances of rest once again—wasn't even the worst part. The worst came afterwards, when the echoes of the bee hive quieted down, and the silence of the house around him stood out.  
He maybe didn't have the wolfish senses to be actually able to tell, but his mind drew him a vivid enough picture nonetheless. The silent dark hallways, the cold shadows thrown by the street lights, the deadness of the space around him... It made him feel trapped. Disturbingly similar to the way he was trapped while someone else was controlling his body. It made him feel like he was alone in a cold shell, somewhere, in a part of the world where his father would never return, and no one would ever come looking for him. And the air was getting thinner and thinner.  
His eyes burned from frustration, because he didn't want to admit even to himself that he couldn't feel safe in his childhood home.  
He tried to distract himself, think of anything else, busy his mind with thoughts about school, pack, books he read, shows he watched, any kind of imaginary scenarios he could use to replace the anxiety that was squeezing his throat shut. But the thing about ADHD, is that sometimes no matter how many things he tried to stuff into his brain to keep it occupied, there more often than not would still remain some spare space for his mind to use to attack him. If it got entirely too much, sometimes he would get up and open his computer. Play videos while reading some articles he collected earlier, stare at the screen with glassy eyes until the world outside his window would unmistakably shift towards morning. Then he could get about an hour of sleep before he had to get up for school, exhausted and disappointed in everything, most of all himself.  
It didn't happen every night, but when it did it followed the same pattern he failed to escape over and over. 

Until today.  
Stiles rolled over forcefully, curling in on himself facing the open space of his room, drawing a shuddering breath, and he almost missed the rustling sound from the foot of his bed behind the dream roaring still lingering in his ears. When his brain caught up to his senses and he was about to bolt up, something moved behind him, his bed dipping, and a heavy weight settling behind him with a huff.  
‘Stiles.’  
It was a testament to their relationship that the wolf could put so much in one word, and that Stiles, even shaking both from his anxiety attack and from the shock of realising someone was in the room with him, could still hear the unsaid ‘Stop freaking out.’ inside it.  
‘Derek?!’  
He whispered loudly into the room, outraged. He wanted to turn around to make sure he wasn't mistaken and to look at the man’s face to see what was going on, but his body felt frozen in place from the shock.  
The man behind him made some non-committal grunt, and it was followed by whole lot of rustling.  
A moment later an arm extended above him, and Stiles saw a very familiar leather jacket fly over his head to land awkwardly on his desk chair.  
He couldn't help the snort that took away at least half of the tension from his shoulders at the sight.  
‘You know, dude, people usually do that before they get into bed,’ he sniped, hoping it would do something to help him get his heartbeat back under control. ‘Which, by the way, you still haven’t explained to me.’  
Admittedly, a lot of things had changed in last few months—after his father brought him back home from the hospital, and he was able to come back to school, and the existence of nogitsune begun to fade away from everyone’s immediate memory. The pack felt more composed, and it seemed that of all the common threats they had to face until now, the demon fox was the one that eventually succeeded in pulling them together. Derek’s triplets looked like they were finally settling into their hides, getting over their power-high, learning how to be what they were now without being jerks about it. Scott was still quieter than his usual self, but Stiles thought it was mostly temporary, judging from the guilt-glinting puppy eyes he still received from his best friend and the way Scott hovered protectively over still-healing Allison. At least, whatever was going through Scott’s head, it looked like it did wonders for stopping him from fighting against being a were and being a part of Derek’s pack, and Stiles wasn’t about to dissuade him from this change. Derek also seemed to be back for good. He trained the pack; acquired furniture for the loft and actually got it looking like a place where they all could gather around and relax; slowly but steadily begun to clear out the Hale house, even if he didn't allow anyone to help him yet… He even spent time with the Sheriff, who was now of course in the loop (there was no much choice but to tell him once the nogitsune showed itself), helping him to sort through any supernaturally-suspicious happenings the department came across.  
Sure, while the things appeared to be calmer, as if the world around them finally needed a rest from all the shitfests their little town had to go through, the pack grew closer. And Stiles was well aware and all in support of that, but he definitely was NOT aware that at any time had they become close enough to warrant a werewolf crawling into his bed in the middle of a night.  
Especially this specific werewolf.  
If they somehow suddenly reached a bed-sharing stage of their pack-relationship, he absolutely missed the memo.  
The same hand that threw the jacket suddenly landed on his side, startling him from his thoughts. It wasn't as much touching, as simply laying there.  
‘Derek?’ He asked again, wincing at the squeak in his voice as suspicion snuck its cold feelers into his mind once again. ‘Come on man, you’re starting to freak me out here.’  
He tried to move then, tried to roll around to look at the werewolf, but the hand on his side stopped him, fingers tightening around him.  
He felt Derek move closer, heard his breath above his ear.  
‘How long has this been going on?’ The older man suddenly asked, ignoring Stiles’s question, surprise-surprise, his voice gruff and barely audible.  
‘What?’  
‘Not sleeping.’  
‘I sleep.’  
‘Stiles.’  
‘What?’ The boy huffed impatiently. He didn't really see the point of this discussion. ‘A while? Whatever? Why do you even care? Gonna sing me some lullabies so that I sleep better now?’  
‘…’  
He waited for a response, but Derek seemed to have gone back to his silently brooding ways.  
And the way they were he couldn't even turn to the man’s eyebrows for answers.  
Gathering up his determination, he moved forward, propping himself up on his elbow and reaching for the light switch on the bedside table. He switched his small nightlight on, blinking against the sudden brightness, and turned around. Derek was on his side just behind him, propped on one elbow, his cheek resting on his knuckles. His other hand was still on Stiles’s middle, and now that he could see it he realised how intimate the gesture actually looked. Stiles felt his jaw go slack with shock from the whole image, and he knew he was staring stupidly, but wasn't really able to do anything about it. Derek’s face looked even more unreal in the soft orange light of his nightlight and the shadows it threw. If it was even possible.  
They stared at each other, neither of them saying anything.  
Stiles stared at the werewolf’s face, and then back down at the hand on top of him. The Alpha looked calm, still, at ease. Like they did this all the time. It was slowly starting to feel like he had slipped into some parallel universe. Or worse, his own fantasy or a dream he was mistaking for the reality.  
Derek was the one to break their staring contest, by _loudly_ arching one of his very expressive eyebrows and prompting Stiles to shake off his stupor.  
‘What are you doing here, Derek?’  
‘Keeping you company?’ The eyebrow was still up.  
‘Why?’  
‘It seemed like you needed it?’  
Stiles frowned.  
‘Company at 3 am? And stop trying to answer with questions.’  
‘Rest.’  
‘What?’  
‘You need to rest.’  
‘Don’t we all?’  
‘Stiles.’  
‘Derek.’  
‘Turn the light off and go back to sleep.’  
It was the turn for Stiles’s eyebrows to climb up into his hairline.  
‘I feel like I’m dreaming right now,’ he mused. ‘I’d ask you to pinch me but then if you’ll do it’s probably going to be unnecessary painful, so can you just please cut the crap and explain to me how does that sentence even supposed to make any sense right now?’  
Derek stared right back at him, narrowing his eyes. Stiles watched the eyebrows take the very much familiar ‘you’re an idiot” formation.  
Derek’s fingers flexed on the sheet above Stiles’s belly, drawing their eyes to it.  
‘You look tired too often. And you smell like anxiety and stress,’ the werewolf said, still looking at the space somewhere between them and sounding like the words were pulled out him. ‘You haven’t told anyone in the pack what was going on with you, I came to check.’  
Stiles tried to mull it over. To be honest, he still felt like his brain was a bit too tired and sluggish to support any sort of adequate thought process that would help him untangle the situation before him.  
‘And then you just decided to invite yourself over to my bed?’  
Derek looked back up at him then, and there was something new on his face—the intensity in his eyes that made Stiles swallow nervously. At the back of his mind he wondered if his pupils have gone wide open, and if Derek saw them clearly, with all his freaky wolfy powers. At least it was better than thinking about him starting to smell Stiles’s reactions on him. Though to be honest, if the things went on as they were, it wouldn't be long before that either.  
‘Yes.’  
One short word was all it took for Stiles to feel frozen again like a deer in headlights. He could hardly remember what did he ask.  
Because instead of headlights he was staring into a pair of a magically-coloured eyes, already bleeding red around the edges, but only barely, watching him with something raw he had never seen before.  
‘Derek…’  
He didn't even know what he wanted to say. He had to say something… Something to make sure he wasn't imagining this, that he didn't read it wrong. That there was actually something to read, that…  
Then Derek moved his hand, grabbing Stiles and pulling him down on the bed, to lay level with him, facing each other. His eyes moved across Stiles’s face, searching for something.  
And then the Alpha slowly leaned closer, not even trying to hide the fact that he was drawing short little breaths, sniffing, as he almost nuzzled the younger man’s cheek.  
Stiles drew another shuddering breath, and thought ‘fuck it’, tilting his head just enough to let their lips brush.  
He stilled, straining his senses to catch Derek’s reaction. Just before he could seriously start doubting his judgment and withdraw, Derek moved over him.  
The first kisses were chaste, soft pressure and tentative drag of warm lips against his. He didn't have much of a frame of reference, but he definitely never kissed anyone like this, not was he ever kissed like this. Tantalizingly slow, the contrast between the warm softness of Derek’s mouth and the tickle of his stubble sending sparks through his neck, all the way down his spine.  
Stiles didn’t even notice when his hands found their way to Derek’s chest, curling around the open collar of the man’s soft henley shirt. It was when his fingertips brushed against the skin on Derek’s neck that the werewolf let out a low rumbling noise and used his blunt human teeth do gently bite down on Stiles’s lower lip.  
The hive he suspected of living in his head only minutes before was now definitely taking residence low in his stomach, making him buck his hips and let out a sort of whimpering gasp he would like to never admit to. He was getting very hard very quickly.  
‘Why?’ He managed to ask in between gasps for air, once Derek moved to mouth along his jaw.  
He was rewarded with a very piercing “Do you really think I’m going to say it out loud?” glare and a huff for his efforts.  
‘At least… Why now?’  
He has been attracted to Derek since long before he dared to realise. He probably always was, on some level (who wasn't?), ever since he met him. He was able to be honest about it to himself only since Derek came back, because the man came back with much less edges and anger, and while the supernaturally good looks were always there, now the Alpha really looked like someone you just wanted to be around all the time. As close as possible.  
And while he had time in the last months to come to terms with his own attraction and the fact that his sexuality was clearly a bit more fluid than he expected, he was also painfully aware that he was as far from Derek’s type as was physically possible. For one, no matter how disastrous his past conquests turned out to be, none of them had dicks. Nor were any of them spastic teenagers. Thus he was sure the answer regarding his chances was pretty clear, no shadows of a doubt. Or that was what Stiles thought…  
While his brain was trying to catch up with the proceedings, Derek brought his hand up to Stiles’s face, and pressed his thumb to the corner of his lips. Softly.  
‘I heard you… Four days ago,’ the alpha said.  
Stiles frowned in confusion. Still catching his breath, he tried to recall various conversations he had around day. Certainly, he would have remembered if he talked about something so incriminating with someone. Maybe Derek meant that he heard him wake up in the middle of the night again? What was he, hanging out under his windows on random days without warning? Well, that would be just plain creepy. Creepier than creepy. He almost opened his mouth to say so, when Derek forestalled him.  
‘Before you went to sleep,’ he added, his eyes watching Stiles’s lips intently, as he moved his thumb across them.  
And then it clicked.  
Stiles felt his face go hot… well, hotter than it already was. He swallowed and squeezed his eyes shut.  
He now knew what the other man was talking about, and it didn't make it any less creepy at all.  
‘Oh my god, you creepy creeperson who creeps!’ Stiles croaked.  
‘I wasn't… The pack was worried about you.’  
The wolf at least had some decency to sound defensive.  
‘And you… Just stayed there and listened?!’  
He had a feeling he wouldn't receive a response to this one.  
‘Oh my god,’ he repeated in disbelief. He kind of wished the bed would just swallow him now. So that he didn’t had to look at Derek’s face while his brain mercilessly replayed the scenes from that evening over and over.  
Honestly, he had no idea how to respond anymore. To any of it. Well, it was Derek’s own fault—he was lurking under (or over) his window, supposedly to check in on him? Disturbing. He should have expected to hear things people do when they think no one is there to hear. It’s called alone time for a reason.  
Though as creepy as the behaviour was, it was not so hard to believe. Stiles wouldn't put it past the alpha to do it to everyone in his pack. Patrolling his territory, reassuring himself that everyone was there and safe. It was equally sweet and creepy, and sounded just like something Derek would do.  
While Stiles was silently freaking out, Derek huffed once again and suddenly shifted, raising up on his arm. Stiles squawked in surprise when the werewolf leaned right over him and his face was suddenly almost pressed right into a warm wide chest. He was assaulted by Derek’s smell—leather, pine, musk… and something else unmistakably Derek, and drew a deep breath without thinking, almost completely forgetting what he was thinking about a moment before.  
The whole thing lasted no more than a few seconds. Derek grunted, reaching over Stiles, and pressing him into the mattress with his weight while he was at it, but he only reached for the night stand, switching the light off, and drawing back away right after.  
Stiles blinked at the ceiling, his eyes slowly adjusting back to the darkness.  
‘I feel like I should be freaking out more,’ he mused out loud.  
‘You are.’  
‘Not like… You know, _more_.’ He could feel the eyebrow rise even without looking. ‘Dude. Derek Hale just appeared in my bed in the middle of the night and kissed me.’ It felt weird saying it out loud, but also somehow very good. It made it feel more real. He still had to add though, ‘I've either gone completely nuts, or was sleeping all along. That’s it. I must be not freaking out because it’s all a dream.’  
Derek drew him in, tangling their legs under the blanket, using them to pull him even closer and turn Stiles to face him. He looked up the alpha’s face and could see him smirking even in the dark.  
‘Do you dream about me kissing you a lot?’  
Stiles felt his face heating up again, reminded right back of the embarrassing memory from four nights ago.  
‘Cut the smug. I can hear all the smug and let me tell you, it’s not attractive at all,’ he pouted.  
‘Lie.’ Derek’s smirk was dangerously close to growing into a grin.  
Stiles grimaced and tried to struggle away from the other man to show his disagreement but was manhandled right back into the wolf’s warm side.  
When they stopped moving, he felt Derek take a deep breath and press his lips to Stiles’s forehead, moving his hand up and down his back, soothingly.  
‘Go to sleep, Stiles,’ he said.  
Stiles puffed and coughed, almost chocking on his laugh. Something warm bloomed in his chest, making him feel giddy. And not at all sleepy.  
‘Derek?’  
‘…’  
‘Are we dating now?’  
A huff again.  
‘Maybe.’  
‘Maybe?’  
‘…’  
‘Aren't we going to finish what you started earlier?’  
The arm around him tightened for a moment.  
‘Not until you’re 18.’  
He almost chocked again.  
‘What?! Really?!’  
‘Really.’  
He sputtered, ready to argue, but was stopped by Derek letting out another sigh and rubbing his beard against his head.  
‘Go to sleep, Stiles,’ he grumbled again, with a hint of a warning.  
Okay, maybe it’ll be better to wait and present his logical arguments at a more opportune moment. Build a plan. A strategy. But first step would be making sure that the alpha stayed put where he was and gave him a chance to do so. Speaking of which, if he cared so much about their difference in age, why was he… Once again, Stiles’s mouth opened before he could think.  
‘Then why did you…?’ He broke off and tangled his hand in Derek’s shirt, momentarily afraid that the man would think that it would be more reasonable to leave than to find an explanation. He tensed, waiting for Derek to move away, but the wolf didn't.  
‘The reason not to wait anymore seemed more important,’ he said instead.  
‘The reason?’ Stiles asked cautiously.  
‘I know… I've…’ It sounded like Derek couldn't find the words, which made Stiles lean closer, listen carefully. The werewolf let out a frustrated sigh. ‘You’re hurting. You’re not a wolf, but even for humans being… Having someone with you here should help.’  
Stiles rolled his words around in his head for a few moments. Was Derek saying that he came to cuddle him away from his anxiety because that was something someone had done to him before?  
‘It helped you?’ He asked.  
‘Yes.’  
Stiles couldn't help but to think about Laura. The two of them keeping each other safe, chasing away each other’s fears and pain. Maybe this wasn't at all what Derek was talking about, but he somehow felt like it was.  
‘And so you…?’ He prompted, wanting to hear more.  
Derek let another long-suffering sight out against his hair.  
‘I wanted to. And I thought you needed someone. And after I heard you… Let’s say I was pretty sure you wouldn't be against it being me. If you need me to, I’ll be here. All there is to it. But it doesn't mean we’ll be doing anything that will need your father shooting me. Especially since he now knows which bullets to use. Enough? Now, for god’s sake, go to sleep already.’  
Stiles smiled. He wanted to know more, of course he did. But something told him not to tempt the fate and not to look this particular gift horse in the mouth too much right away. So he burrowed his face into Derek’s shoulder, still smiling, and did as he was told.

**Author's Note:**

> Since this is unbeta-ed and a bit rushed, I'm sure there're some mistakes left... I've tried my best to catch pearls like ‘sending sparks down his sparks’ and ‘he opened his moth’, but if you see something that bothered you, don't hesitate to let me know.  
> Cheers.


End file.
